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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221845">The Brownstone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_savage_daughter_0627/pseuds/the_savage_daughter_0627'>the_savage_daughter_0627</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Why Don't You Be the Artist? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Based on a Tumblr Post, Eventual Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Summaries, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Katara (Avatar)-centric, Long Shot, Modeling, Mutual Pining, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Katara (Avatar), Painting, Past Jet/Katara (Avatar), Pining, Romance, Sequel, Sexual Tension, Zuko (Avatar) is an Idiot, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:22:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_savage_daughter_0627/pseuds/the_savage_daughter_0627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Katara meets up with Zuko for her first modeling job, and realizes she may be in over her head as she realizes there is more to the young artist than meets the eye.</p><p>Sequel to "The Painting", so if you haven't read that yet, DO IT!!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Why Don't You Be the Artist? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Brownstone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my apology for not uploading the last chapters of The Conduit this week. Me and my beta got SUPER swamped with life, so we decided to get this out instead. Please accept this as my humble apology &lt;3 </p><p>Special thanks to the amazing FireLadyFae/LadyFaePhillips for her dedication to my never-ending stream of Zutara.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Katara pulled up to the curb outside of the address Zuko had given her. It belonged to a four-story brownstone that was nestled up against the similar brownstones next to it, and if it wasn’t for the gold-plated address beside the front door, Katara might have had a hard time picking it out from the row of houses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She killed the engine and sat in her seat for a moment longer, trying to calm the butterflies that were fluttering against the walls of her stomach. It was ridiculous, really, to feel this nervous. She was just coming to model for him, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like it was anything she hadn’t done before. Although, she supposed, modeling for a painting was a bit different than modeling for a camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And usually, when she had modeled for Jet, she had been in lingerie. Katara had, of course, neglected to mention that to Zuko.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After meeting at the art gallery, they had shared a rather steady stream of correspondence via email as they tried to find a time that worked for both of them. With both of their busy schedules, it had taken a few weeks to work it out. Katara had been swamped at work with several big deadlines quickly approaching, and Zuko had been out of town for a week for some art convention in Boston. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But finally, they had found a Sunday afternoon where both of them had a few hours free to spend on this project.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now Katara was surprisingly nervous. It was stupid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid. In fact, if she was smart, she wouldn’t even be here. Zuko had made a painting based off of her—had practically stalked her at her </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span> (never mind the fact that his uncle owned the business and he had a perfectly valid reason to be there)—and instead of being angry about it, Katara was here to model for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s gotten into me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Katara thought to herself as she stared up at the brownstone. But she knew the answer. It was Zuko, from the moment he had walked up to her at that art gallery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was intriguing, with his mussy hair and golden eyes and the scar. She couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten it. Iroh spoke highly of his nephew, but it was never anything personal, and even though Katara had spent the last few weeks subtly grilling Iroh about him every chance she got, she felt like she still knew virtually nothing about Zuko.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even their emails revealed nothing about him. Zuko was succinct and professional during every exchange. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re available on Saturday, I can do 1-3...I appreciate your offer to model for me...I’ll be happy to pay you for your time…</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was infuriating, and intriguing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara huffed out a breath and opened her car door, stepping out into the crisp fall air. She pulled her scarf a little higher to ward off the chill as she shut and locked the door. Then she stepped onto the sidewalk and walked up the short flight of steps to the brownstone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers beneath her favorite navy-blue peacoat and cream-colored cashmere scarf. She had asked Zuko what she should wear, feeling a little foolish while doing it, and he had simply responded, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wear whatever you like</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Katara didn’t know exactly what the modeling job was for. Zuko had been rather vague on that front. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to work on another Painted Lady piece, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d emailed her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not too sure what it’ll be yet, but I think I’ll know when we get a chance to work on it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Katara, who lacked a single artistic bone in her body, didn’t really understand how the creative process worked, but she trusted that he knew what he was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara pressed the doorbell and tucked her hands into her pockets. She looked around a bit more while she waited. The outside was impersonal. The doormat was nondescript, and there weren’t any flowers or decorations at all. If she didn’t know better, Katara might have thought no one lived here at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little twinge of anxiety went through her. She suddenly realized what the heck she was doing, and her imagination went to work on possible outcomes. She didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Zuko, not really. Sure, she worked for his uncle, but that didn’t mean Zuko wasn’t some creep who planned on luring her into his house just to murder her...or worse. She didn’t think he would, but again, she didn’t actually know him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was too late now. She heard his footsteps on the other side of the door and trained her eyes to the front. A moment later she heard the locks turn, and then Zuko was filling up the doorway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hair was mussed, and he wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red-and-black flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Katara took in a tattoo of a blue-scaled dragon that curved up his left forearm before she brought her eyes up to his face and offered him a friendly smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of his lips pulled up into a half-smile. “Hi.” Zuko stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please, come in. I’m glad you could make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara stepped over the threshold and into the house. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No going back now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And maybe my imagination got a little carried away. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now that she was seeing him again, with his golden eyes and warm half-smile, and hearing his husky voice, she suddenly felt different about being here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house was warm, and it smelled pleasant, like paint and spices and musk. It was clean, too, cleaner than she had expected. She realized that she didn’t know if Zuko had a live-in girlfriend, or roommates, or anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can, um, hang your jacket up over here. If you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara turned back towards him and saw the coat rack behind the door. “Oh, thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She untied the belt at her waist and shrugged off her coat. Zuko took it from her and hung it on a hook, and then held his hand out for her scarf and purse as well. Katara watched him hang the scarf over the jacket and her purse on its own hook before he turned back to her. His eyes flickered over her for a moment before he met her gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I…get you anything? Some water, maybe?” He drummed his fingers against his legs, and Katara wondered if he was as nervous as she was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.” Katara smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “Some water would be nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, kitchen’s this way if you want to just...follow me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he stepped past her, Katara caught the smell of his cologne. It reminded her of bamboo, and she decided she liked it. She trailed after him, the floorboards creaking slightly underfoot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara glimpsed into the living room off to the left. It was small and cozy, with a couple of black leather couches and glass tables arranged before a white-brick fireplace. It was sleek and modern, and should have contrasted with the antique style of the brownstone, but somehow, it worked. She couldn’t help but notice how there weren’t any pictures on the wall or any other form of decoration, either. The only thing that personalized the space was a bookcase on the far wall, but she was too far away to make out the titles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then they stepped into the kitchen. It was an open space, with an island in the center that had a few bar stools arranged neatly in front of it. The counters were clean, and mostly empty. Only a coffee pot and a microwave sat on one end. Again, there was nothing personal in here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara lingered by the island as Zuko moved through the kitchen, first going to a cupboard to grab a glass and then drifting over to the fridge and dispensing ice cubes from it before he filled it with water and carried it to her. Katara thanked him as she took it from him and sipped it while Zuko looked at anything but her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gone was the cocky young man she had met at the art gallery. Instead, she was presented with this nervous, shy artist who didn’t quite seem to know how to present himself to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara cupped the glass in her hands. “This is a pretty nice place. Do you live here by yourself?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah.” He leaned against the island. “Well, I rent the basement out to a college kid. But he’s rarely here, and when he is, he mostly keeps to himself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s nice. I finally moved out of my crappy studio apartment a few months ago. I’d lived there since college. Now I actually have a bedroom door.” She smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you enjoy working for my uncle? He says you’ve been there for about a year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara quirked her brow at him as she smiled. “You and Iroh talked about me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Color rose in his cheeks and Zuko cleared his throat. “I...mentioned you’d offered to model for me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it makes you feel better, Uncle had nothing but nice things to say about you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s good, at least.” Katara appraised him. “Have you ever done this before? Had a live model, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko glanced over at her. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um...once. My ex. She would model for me sometimes.” He cleared his throat as he gestured towards the hallway. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re ready.” Katara smiled at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave her a timid smile. “Yeah, if you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko headed back into the hallway and Katara followed him. He led the way up the stairs. When they reached the first landing, Zuko looked at her, the corners of his lips tugging up into a lopsided smirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you don’t mind stairs,” Zuko said. He jerked his chin at the second flight. “My studio is on the third floor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara peered up. “It’s fine. I haven’t been able to hit the gym in a few weeks, so this’ll be good cardio.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko chuckled, the sound low and throaty, before he started up the second set of steps. The sound of his voice settled like hot wax in the pit of her stomach and she allowed her eyes to trail over him, from his broad shoulders, down his sleek back to his lean waist, his muscled forearms, his seriously cute butt, and those long legs. Katara had to concentrate on not letting out a low sound of approval that was definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> professional.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they reached the third floor landing, Katara was more out of breath than she would have liked to be, and she breathed shallowly through her mouth and sipped her water to hide it as she walked with Zuko to a door at the end of the short hallway. He opened it, and Katara was presented with his workspace, the place where he painted masterpieces like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Celestial</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room seemed to take up almost the entire third floor. There was a window seat at one end, with tall windows that let in plenty of natural lighting. Canvas tarps covered the hardwood floor, and there were a dozen easels strewn about with paintings propped on them. More canvases were leaned against the walls, dozens of them. Perhaps even a hundred. And each and every one of them was covered in a tarp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you always keep your paintings covered?” Katara asked him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko offered her a shy smile. “For the most part. If I stare at them for too long I start to notice where I went wrong, and that’s never good. It never stops bugging me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Near the center of the room, closest to the windows, was an easel with a fresh canvas set up on it. A small table, with a paint palette and an array of brushes and pencils in cups, sat beside the easel. A small black box sat beside the palette, and Katara wondered what it was. There was a high stool set in front of that, closer to the windows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you come up with an idea?” Katara asked as she took in the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko grabbed a black apron off of a hook by the door and slipped it over his neck before he tied it behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of. I think I want to do a portrait of...just the Painted Lady. I’ll have you sit on the stool and get into the right pose. I’m gonna snap a couple of pictures for references to come back to, but I’ll start the piece now, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara arched her brow at his back as he drifted over to the stool beside his easel. He had slipped into a new Zuko, one who was calm and authoritative, who knew exactly what he wanted. She decided she liked the confident side of him the most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Katara said. “Just tell me what position you want me in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko looked up at her then, his eyes wide with surprise for just a brief moment before he neutralized his expression. He tapped his fingers against the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.” His eyes flickered to the stool in front of the windows, and then back to her, and down to the water glass in her hands. “You can just...set that on the floor. Sorry. I don’t really do much up here but paint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay.” Katara bent over and set the glass down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she straightened up, Zuko was watching her with an analytical eye that made her squirm nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just come over here and sit down, and I’ll guide you into the position I want.” His tone was calm, authoritative. Then he looked up at her, and she saw the color rise in his cheeks as he hastily added, “For the painting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara’s heart skipped a beat in her chest as an amused smile curved her lips. She walked over to the stool and sat down, her eyes on Zuko as he turned away from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko crossed the room to a small cabinet and opened the doors. She saw the bottles of paint lining the shelves, and a black camera sitting by itself on the highest shelf. Zuko grabbed it and started back towards her. He stopped a few feet away as she sat down. His brow was furrowed as he observed her, moving slowly around her as he continued to study her. All traces of his prior embarrassment were gone as he slipped back into his collected, professional persona.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead and sit sideways, so you’re parallel to the window.” She turned until he nodded in approval. “I want you to cross your legs. Put the right one over your left knee.” Katara listened. Zuko cocked his head to the side. “The Painted Lady is a water spirit, so I want to encompass that. I’m imagining her holding her hand out, like this—” He demonstrated. “—with the water coming up towards her. Legend says she could manipulate it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara watched him, and then emulated holding her hand out, letting her fingers relax into the same position his had held. Zuko came closer to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Almost,” he murmured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he took her hand. Katara startled under his unexpected touch before she forced herself to relax. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Zuko said with a sheepish smile that was more like the young man she had met at the gallery. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> had it right, but I’m thinking more like this…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s warm, pale fingers manipulated her hand, shaping her fingers into the position he wanted them in. He cupped her elbow next and raised it a little higher, angling it exactly how he wanted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cross your legs a little higher,” Zuko said, and she did. Then he stepped back, his brow knit again, before his expression relaxed and he nodded. “That’s perfect. You’re doing great, Katara.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shiver ran through her at both the compliment and the sound of her name on his lips. It took all of her willpower not to move from her position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held the camera up and started snapping pictures. Then he lowered the camera, his brow creasing slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you look to the right a bit, towards me? And keep your expression...serious. Stoic. You know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara turned her head and neutralized her expression. She saw the way his lips quirked down. “Like this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko came over to her. He considered her for a moment. He hung the camera from its strap around his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“May I?” Zuko asked her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara swallowed. “Um, yeah. Whatever you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She saw his lips twitch before he placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of her chin and guided her head. His fingers were gentle and warm against her skin and sent pleasant tremors running through her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” he mused. His eyes trailed down her ponytail. “Do you mind if we take your hair down? The Painted Lady supposedly had long hair, and you do too, so I’d rather paint based off of yours than imagination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think about it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my fault, really. I should have noticed it before I had you get into position—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me just—” Katara reached up with the hand that wasn’t held in a pose and tugged at her hair tie. Then her hair was free, spilling over her shoulders. With the help of her teeth, she slipped the tie over her wrist. Then she looked up at Zuko. “I didn’t mess the pose up too bad, did I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re fine.” He offered her a timid smile. Then he cocked his head. “But your hair…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, how do you want it?” Katara reached up again and fluffed her hair a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Over the shoulder, like, like…” Zuko trailed off, his mouth twisting as he tried to think of how to describe it. His eyes flickered to her, and he chuckled a bit nervously. “I have a...</span>
  <em>
    <span>movie</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind. I can see it, but I have a harder time describing it.” He pursed his lips. “I know I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to touch the model, but...may I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I haven’t minded so far.” Katara smirked up at him, but her stomach did a nervous little flip. She tried to ignore it. Why was she responding to him like this? It was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>modeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for spirits’ sake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I guess you haven’t.” He offered her an endearing smile, and Katara had to will herself not to blush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s hands came up and draped her hair across her shoulder, rearranging her chocolate tresses until they were exactly how he wanted them. His touch was gentle and light and Katara had to resist the shiver that threatened to run through her. He was close enough that she could feel his warmth as she breathed in his cologne once again. Then he was done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have beautiful hair,” he said as he let his fingers flow through it. And Katara decided right then and there that she liked him close to her. “It’s going to be really perfect for the Painted Lady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. I’m glad I could help.” She was sure she was blushing now, and she hoped he didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There,” he said as he finished and stepped back. But then Zuko came forward again, lips turning upwards, and his fingers were back on her chin, guiding her back into place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Katara peered at him from beneath her lashes. But with his hand still holding her chin, she bit back a soft gasp when she met his golden gaze as her blush deepened in her cheeks. There was something just so damn...</span>
  <em>
    <span>appealing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him. She couldn’t help it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lips twitched into a smirk. “It’s fine. You’ll be able to put your arm down once I get the shots. I’ll start with the rest of your body first before I focus on that arm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Her heart was thudding in her chest and it took all of her self-control to hold still as yet another shiver ran through her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe it. She barely knew Zuko and he was already making it difficult for her to keep herself together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is going on with me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Katara wondered. She had never felt so many emotions about someone so quickly before. She didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t adverse to it either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko stepped back again and raised the camera. He snapped several photos, moving in a slow arc in front of her, not missing a single angle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now this was something that Katara was used to. Jet had done something similar when she had modeled for him back in college. Only she didn’t usually have to stay in the same pose for long, and she could already feel the strain starting in her arm. She was about to ask if Zuko was almost done when he stepped back and took the camera off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can relax that arm now, but try not to move too much, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned and walked back toward the cabinet and Katara gratefully rested her arm across her lap, taking care to keep the rest of her body still. Zuko set the camera back on its shelf before he started back across the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He picked up the small black box and looked up at Katara. “Do you mind if I play some music while I work?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara nearly shook her head. The movement was nearly imperceptible, but Zuko still smirked crookedly at her as a blush rose in her cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a hard time staying still for long, don’t you?” Zuko’s smirk widened, and Katara felt heat rise in her cheeks again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. But the more you move, the more we have to readjust, and it’ll make the process take longer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko thumbed the black box on, and Katara realized it was a Bluetooth speaker. He set it back down and fished his phone out of his back pocket, scrolling for a moment. Then music started to play, something slow but electronic that Katara didn’t recognize. She was an indie rock girl all the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I forgot, are you paying me hourly, or by the piece?” She cracked a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko snorted out a laugh. When he looked up at her, his eyes seemed to smolder. “That depends. Would you be interested in coming back to model for more pieces?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You must really like the Painted Lady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I could use you for other projects.” Zuko grabbed a pencil and turned toward the canvas. Katara watched as he began to sketch. His eyes flickered to her again. “If you wanted to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara arched her brow, making sure that was the only movement she made. “I might be interested.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I might be interested in more than just modeling, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll pay you hourly. How does...fifteen an hour sound?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara struggled to keep the shock off of her face. “That’s a lot to just sit on a stool and look pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, given that I can sell a piece this size for over three hundred dollars, I’d say you’re worth more than fifteen dollars an hour.” Zuko glanced up from his canvas, his lips tugging up into another crooked smirk. “Now, no more talking. I need to concentrate. And you’re distracting”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” she said with a touch of humor, but she didn’t miss his smirk and the way his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than they needed to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara sat as still as she could while Zuko worked, but he had to pause several times to readjust her chin or her leg. He never got irritated though. Rather, every time he had to correct her position, he had that same crooked smirk that caused heat to thrum low in her belly. He had even taken it upon himself to tease her once as he adjusted her chin yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know…” he drawled as he cupped her chin in his hand again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re doing this on purpose just to get more time out of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara couldn’t help but smirk up at him. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing you know better, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Good thing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let his fingers graze across her chin gently that time instead of just pulling away like he had before, and Katara couldn’t help but wonder if that meant something. Then he got back to his work, and Katara sat still and tried not to think about the man who was currently putting her likeness on canvas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was hard. He had angled the canvas so that he could see her, and she got a lovely side view of him while he worked. She was surprised to find out he was left-handed, as she had thought that perhaps the vision in his left eye was impacted by the scar. But he had also positioned himself so that his right side faced her, and Katara couldn’t help but wonder if that was intentional. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko was handsome, and Katara was realizing very quickly what all those feelings she was having meant. She was becoming attracted to him. And with that, she realized that she would happily come back to model for him, even without the money. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He concentrated deeply as he worked, his brow furrowed. The movements of his arm were precise and experienced, though he only used the pencil at first. His eyes would cut between her and the canvas for brief moments, though occasionally he would look up at her and study her for several moments before he would drop his gaze back to his work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn’t talk much. Katara didn’t know if he preferred the quiet, or perhaps he just didn’t quite know what to say to her. Katara had conversation starters on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in charge. She would let him dictate the conversation. And apparently, he was satisfied with virtually none. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last, Zuko rinsed his paintbrush and turned off the speaker. Then he came around the easel and wiped his hands on the apron. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day,” Zuko said with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have no idea,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Katara thought as she unfolded her legs. She rubbed at her sore leg for a moment before she slid off of the stool and stretched languidly, reaching her arms above her head until her shirt pulled above the waistband of her jeans. Katara didn’t miss the way his eyes ate up the exposed skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks again for helping me out,” Zuko said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to, especially after what happened at the gallery.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my pleasure.” He looked over at her, and it was her turn to smirk. “I’m happy to help. And I’m sure it’ll earn brownie points with my boss.” She lifted her eyebrows and flashed a grin at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko chuckled as he moved back behind the easel. He cleaned up the array of pencils he had used to sketch the piece. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still, I appreciate it.” He gestured to the door. “Ladies first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before making her way toward the door, Katara drifted towards the easel to see the painting, but Zuko blocked her view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” He smirked. “You don’t get to see it until it’s done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She let out an indignant scoff. “Seriously? I get to sit uncomfortably for a few hours and I don’t even get a sneak peek?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s smirk widened. “That’s right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s cruel. Almost as cruel as making me sit there for two hours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brow creased. “If you need to take a break, just let me know.” His frown deepened. “I should have asked. I’m sorry. I tend to get caught up in my work when I get into the groove of it and I just...sort of forget. About breaks, I mean. So...again, I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara waved him off, chuckling at the red flush that was rising in his cheeks. “I’m just teasing you. Since, you know, you’re a jerk and you won’t let me see the painting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko chuckled. “Relax, you’ll see it when it’s done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, they went back downstairs. Zuko had grabbed Katara’s unfinished water on the way out and returned it to the kitchen before meeting her back in the foyer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once at the door, Katara grabbed her purse, coat and scarf off of the coat rack and turned back to him. He was standing there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, looking way more attractive than he had any right to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When would you like me to come back?” Katara asked him as she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of his mouth twitched. “I hope it’s sooner than a few weeks from now. I’m looking forward to working on this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can try to get off work early this week, if you’re open,” Katara said. “I’ve got some interns who could use some extra work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko clicked his tongue. “Now, don’t go picking on your interns for little old me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve earned the reprieve anyway,” Katara said. “I’ve been working overtime for the last two weeks, and we’re about to wrap up this big project anyway. I could probably come back on...either Wednesday or Thursday. Say, around six o’clock?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko considered that for a moment. “Yeah, that could work.” His eyes combed over her. “Maybe next time you can leave your hair down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the boss.” She grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head. “And...don’t take this the wrong way...if you don’t mind, next time could you wear something more form fitting? It helps me get the proportions better. I’ll end up painting her in a different outfit but it helps to…” Zuko trailed off, suddenly unable to articulate what he was thinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have an accurate visual?” Katara supplied, and he looked a little grateful. She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zuko seemed to notice her doing so, and he offered a further explanation. “Yes, exactly. An accurate visual. The jeans are fine, but a more form-fitting top would really help. If...if you don’t mind, that is. If it’s okay with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katara smiled up at him. She might have liked his confident self the best, but he was cute when he was flustered, too. “I can do that. I enjoyed working with you today. And thanks for your patience with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He returned the smile. “Same. See you Wednesday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At six.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened the door for her, and Katara stepped out into the chilly air. She looked back at him over her shoulder as she went down the steps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Katara.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pleasant tremor went through her at the sound of her name on his tongue yet again, and Katara wondered where else this partnership might go. She decided Zuko was probably not a killer, and she was glad about that. Just an intriguing, aloof artist who she was definitely more interested in than just modeling for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She got back into her car and started the drive home, already looking forward to Wednesday.</span>
</p>
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